


Darling, you're not alone

by CirrusGrey



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Episode Related, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Jon is a disaster but he finally uses his words, Love Confessions, M/M, Martin returns, Pining, The Power Of Love, episode 158 spoilers, rating is for swears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 23:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21107846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CirrusGrey/pseuds/CirrusGrey
Summary: SPOILERS FOR MAG 158!!!Jon finds Martin in the Lonely.





	Darling, you're not alone

**Author's Note:**

> _Now when you wake up_  
_Night's falling someone is by your side_  
_Pull it together, darling you're not alone_  
~ Andrew Bird, [Capsized](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=b3dw3NHwbvI)

He finds Martin, eventually, both of them wandering through the foggy haze of this strange and empty facsimile of London. He's sitting on a park bench, staring out at the still surface of a grey pond, and he is the only color in the place. He burns with it: vibrant and vital, so full of life in a world that is so bare of it. Jon's heart almost stops at the sight of him, at how beautiful he is; and that's not because of the contrast with the world around them: it is purely, entirely,  _ Martin. _

His breath catches in his chest and he freezes where he stands. In his mind, he is running forward, calling Martin's name, sweeping him in a crushing hug; kissing him, fierce and passionate; shaking, falling apart as he clutches Martin tight, the only words he can say a repeating loop of  _ I love you. _ In his mind, Martin clutches him back, whispering against his mouth again and again:  _ I love you too. I love you, too. _

A breeze brushes passed, swirling the fog around his feet, and Jon cannot move. 

He is... scared. He is so, so scared. Because... because Martin  _ wouldn't  _ clutch him back, would he? Wouldn't hold him, wouldn't kiss him, wouldn't say those words. Martin doesn't want him here, Martin doesn't want  _ him, _ and even though Jon has followed him into almost certain death he does not expect to be welcomed.

He takes a deep, deep breath, balling up all the love and fear and hope and despair, shoving it aside along with all his regrets, and walks toward the bench. 

"Martin."

Martin jumps, standing from the bench and spinning around. 

_ "Jon?" _ There is pure shock on his face, untempered by the cold scorn Jon had expected after their last conversation. "What are you  _ doing  _ here? Did Peter trap you as well?"

The sound of Martin's voice - so familiar, so dear - almost brings tears to Jon's eyes. He'd been so afraid he would never hear it again. He clears his throat, stumbling over the words.

"N-no, I- I came willingly. I... I followed you." He smiles, a little, hopeful and hopelessly in love.

"What?" Martin pauses, frowning. "Why?"

"B-because... I..." The words claw at Jon's throat. It would be so easy to say, to blurt them out and damn the consequences, but... 

Martin blinks at him, patiently waiting, and Jon falters under his gaze. Martin doesn't  _ want  _ him. If he says  _ that, _ now... he might just leave. And Jon cannot bear the thought of Martin leaving. "I'm not going to leave you behind," he says, and curses his own cowardice. "That's not what we do, we- we don't leave people behind."

"Oh. Right." Something closes in Martin's gaze - some expectation that was not met, or fear that has been dispelled. He smiles, and Jon does not know if it is actually brittle or if that is his own hopes twisting what he sees. "You got Daisy out of the coffin too, didn't you? You... you spend a lot of time rescuing people, these days."

"I try." It comes out softer than he intends, quiet and sad. Martin gives him a look that Jon cannot name, then gestures at the bench. 

"Come on. We may as well sit while we talk."

Neither of them speak for a few minutes, sitting in silence next to the pond. Jon barely registers the view: the entirety of his attention is taken up by the man beside him, by the way their shoulders brush ever so slightly when Martin shifts in his seat, by the fact that it does not matter that they are not talking, that they are trapped here, that Jon is a coward who can't say how he feels. Martin is  _ here, _ and that is the only thing that Jon cares about. 

His breath comes slow and deep; his heart thrums along with the rhythm of it, a steady, even beat pulsing through his whole body in time to the litany of his thoughts:  _ I love you. I love you. I love you. _

“So,” he says, throat tight with emotion. “How have you been?”

“Oh,” says Martin, and “Um, well, I’ve been- I’ve been alright. You know, besides the ‘being trapped forever’ bit.” And all Jon can do is look at him, and drink in his presence, and the fact that he might only ever see one person again in the rest of his life doesn’t bother him, because that person is Martin. “How- how about you?”

Jon blinks, and looks away.

“I’ve been… well. Not good, really.” He sighs. It’s been… it’s been horrible. He’s weak, hungry, lonely, needy, scared for himself and for Martin and for Daisy and Basira, back in the real world… but he doesn’t want to tell Martin that. "I mean, you know what we've been up against."

"Yeah..." Martin trails off, staring out over the water. He sighs, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry. Whatever part I played in everything going to shit, I'm sorry."

Jon makes a soft sound, reaching out a hand to lay over Martin's before remembering himself and drawing back. "It's not your fault, Martin. None of this is. You were trying to stop the end of the world, it's not like you knew it would get you trapped here."

"That's the thing, though. I wasn't." His hands clench into fists. "Maybe for a while, there, but... this wasn't some noble, self-sacrificing masterplan to save the world. It was... well, a lot of things. But by the end there I think I just wanted to see what would happen. Find out the endgame before I bailed."

"I'm the last person to criticize someone for wanting to watch and see what happens." That draws a small chuckle from Martin, and Jon's heart clenches painfully in his chest. He'd missed that sound. "Look, Martin, we're all just doing the best we can. You're no more at fault for this than I am."

"I guess." Martin shrugs, leaning back. "Did you have a plan, by the way? You said you came here willingly, so..."

"Ah." Jon holds up one finger decisively, before promptly dropping it and shaking his head with a grimace. "No. To be honest I was kind of hoping just finding you would pull us both out. Hard to believe the Lonely would allow two people to stay inside it together."

Martin looks like he wants to be angry, but instead he just sighs. "I don't know. It can be pretty lonely, even around other people."

He's not looking at Jon, so Jon looks at him. There are dark bags under his eyes, and his skin is pale and drawn. Small frown lines tug at the corners of his mouth, and there is a melancholy to his whole appearance that Jon wishes he knew how to banish. He thinks about that, about the way his chest aches and the way words keep piling up behind his tongue, unspoken confessions that keep rising to choke him.

It is, indeed, quite lonely to be around someone you care about, if you don't know how to tell them.

"Well," he says. "If we're going to be stuck here, I, uh. I'd rather be alone together... Even though that's, um, a contradiction in terms..." he clears his throat awkwardly.

"Yeah... um." Martin shifts, hands clenching and unclenching on the fabric of his trousers. "Thanks, Jon. For, uh. C-coming to get me. Um. Sorry I got you... trapped here."

"N-no, Martin, it's, um..." Jon sighs, words failing him yet again. "L-like I said. I'd rather be with you."

Martin smiles slightly, glancing down at his hands and carefully smoothing out the wrinkled fabric. "Me too."

They fall silent again. After a moment Martin tilts his head, sudden confusion wrinkling his brow. 

"Wait, you mean you'd rather be with me in here than without me in here, right?"

"Sorry?"

"No, it's just-" Martin gives a hesitant little laugh. "The way you phrased that, it almost sounded like you were saying you'd rather be trapped in here with me than free out there without me."

"Oh." And even cowardice cannot stand in the face of that question: he may be willing to tell half-truths, but he's not going to outright  _ lie  _ to Martin. "That, um, that is what I meant."

Martin freezes, eyes going wide. "Oh," he echoes, and stops, hand clenching over his leg again. 

Jon swallows thickly, reaching out to lay his own hand over Martin's. In for a penny, in for a pound. 

"Martin, I want to be where you are. Whether that's back in the real world, or stuck in some hellish other dimension, if you're there, I'm going to follow. If, if you'll let me." Martin is breathing fast, eyes locked on Jon's. Jon squeezes his hand, lifting it up to cradle against his chest. "I've missed you  _ so much _ these past months, I- I don't really know what to do with myself, without you there. You've always been- I trust you. Not just with, with my life, or anything, I trust you with... me. Being myself around you. There's not many people I can talk to freely, without feeling like I need to hold myself back, and you're- you've  _ always  _ been one of the few. Ever since Prentiss attacked. And I'd like to think that I could be that person for you, as well, if you'll have me."

"Jon..." Martin begins, but Jon shakes his head.

"You don't need to say anything. But you asked, and... I want you to know." Jon lifts Martin's hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles before he speaks. "You're my best friend, and more. Martin, I love you."

Martin pulls his hand free, and Jon lets him go, turning his head away and closing his eyes. It's what he expected, after all, and no matter how much it hurts he is still glad he said it.

And then Martin's hand is against his cheek, turning him back, and Jon opens his eyes to see Martin's shining back at him, damp with tears even as he smiles. 

"Jon," he says, and there is wonder and amazement in his voice, "I love you too."

And then they are kissing, and it is nothing at all like Jon imagined it. It's awkward, and uncomfortable - his glasses are pressing against the bridge of his nose in a frankly painful way, and they're both sitting half-twisted toward each other on the bench to try and get the angle right, and Martin's hand has moved from his cheek to desperately clutching at his hair pulling just a little too tight - but it is perfect, nonetheless. Martin is warm against Jon, his lips are soft and his mouth tastes like tea, and he wants Jon here, he wants him, he  _ loves  _ him, and Jon can feel a rising tide of emotion inside himself that will either manifest as laughter or tears when it breaks but right now just leaves him reeling and warm.

He doesn't notice the shift in the world, the fog clearing and the grey nothing giving way to a cool September night. But he feels Martin relax, leaning into him in a way that is less desperate, more deliberate. He returns it, shifting into a better angle for a few moments before pulling away to breathe. 

Martin keeps him close, hand smoothing through the hair he had tangled, and Jon leans into the touch.

"I guess we're back, then."

Jon looks around, finally noticing their changed surroundings. They are still sitting near the pond, but he can hear people not far off, laughing as they walk through the park, and the sound of traffic drifts from a nearby street.

"Yes. I guess we are."

Martin smiles at him, and Jon smiles back, heart lurching painfully in his chest. It's a strange thing, that joy should hurt as much as sadness; Jon treasures the sensation, letting it push back against all the fear and sorrow he's been carrying. 

"What happens now?"

"I don't quite know." Jon chews on his lip, thinking, trying not to be distracted by the way Martin's gaze flicks down to follow the motion. "We should probably get back to the Institute, help Daisy and Basira. Try to get Elias back in jail, if we can."

"Jonah." Jon frowns at him, and Martin clarifies. "Jon, Elias is Jonah Magnus. This whole time, he's been-"

"Oh, god." Jon covers his face with his hand. "Yeah, I figured that out, it just slipped my mind. I need to tell you about Gertrude as well, and Julia and Trevor..."

"Wait, the  _ vampire hunters?" _

"Yeah." Jon reluctantly leans back, standing and offering Martin his hand. "A lot of things started happening all at once. I'll catch you up on the way back."

"Okay. There's stuff you should know as well." Martin grabs his hand, using the momentum of standing to throw himself into Jon's arms. Jon catches him instinctively, holding him tight. Martin doesn't say anything, just presses his face against Jon's shoulder, and Jon does not speak either. After a moment Martin pulls back, and nods. "Let's go."

Jon grabs Martin's hand as they walk, and Martin squeezes his in return. He has no idea what they'll be facing when they reach the Institute: death, destruction, danger, or just the aftermath of a battle and endless questions. But, he realizes, it does not scare him. Whatever is waiting for them, they won't be facing it alone.


End file.
